


Hunter's Moon

by Stonewall1862



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: 15 years later, A new cycle, F/M, Goths, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vampires, still in forks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonewall1862/pseuds/Stonewall1862
Summary: Fifteen years after the Cullen clan move away from Forks, a new family moves into the house. Thomas, his adopted siblings, and 'parents' are getting used to their vegetarian diet. Carlisle has offered the house to them as they continue to relearn how to live amongst humans. What Thomas wasn't prepared for was Artemis, the steadfast gothic boy who makes Thomas see new colors with his powers. Artemis is not easy to get close to though, but like magnets they circle, unable to break their new bond.But with vampire hunters drawing near, can Thomas keep Artemis from meeting the death he seeks? And can Artemis keep his new reason for being safe?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	1. How I would Die- Artemis

I’ve given a lot of thought to how I would die.

In fact, I’ve given it so much thought, it’s a surprise I’m still around most days. I used to think about death every day when I lived with my father, because there was always the chance he might. He might take things too far. He might drink one too many. He might finally finish me off, for no other reason than I hadn’t washed up the dishes, or I moved one of his trophies from high school.

But now? I still think of it. Free from the confines of the row house in Portland, and now stuck in a two bedroom single wide in the gloomiest place on Earth: Forks, Washington. Most people would avoid it, with the constant fog and rain, but honestly? I don’t mind. It suits me. Even if I do keep getting the hem of my various midnight colored pants damp when I walk around.

Before I even opened my eyes I can tell it’s green outside. The trees at the back of the trailer park- sorry, Twin Pine Estates- shade over the metal brown sides, especially over my bedroom. When I did open my eyes, it’s confirmed, and there’s rain from last night dripping down the dirty glass, though it didn’t seem to be precipitating right then.

A shrill beeping entered my consciousness, and sluggish, I ignored it a moment before rolling over to turn it off. Wednesday. Not quite as bad as Monday, but close.

The trailer was quiet as I dragged myself up to shower. My mom is a waitress, and picking up extra shifts to make ends work, she was already there. This was most mornings for me. There’s a bit of rust trying to take over the drain of the avocado colored shower, and I made a mental note to pick up some rust b-gone after work tomorrow, but for now it’s just going to have to stay rusty like half of the rest of the trailer’s metal shell. One giant rusted scarab.

As I stepped out of the shower a shadow caught my eye and followed as it stalked out of my room and down the hall for the kitchen. No, not a murderer, though that wouldn’t be terrible. Just my cat, Norman, ready for breakfast. I dressed in my usual black pants, black shirt, before joining him.

I pulled out a couple pieces of wheat bread, shove them into the toaster and refilled Norman’s refillable kibble holder while I waited. Would it be so bad to disappear? My mom would take care of Norman. Though he’s my cat, came with me from Portland, she loves him just as much as I do, even though she claims not to be a cat person.

Putting a few folders in my messenger bag, my mind floated, tired from insomnia before the toast popped. It wasn’t even worth the effort to butter it.

I gave Norm a few extra scratches under the chin and swiped my black jacket. February in Forks was temperamental at best. It was cold and cloudy, the fog wrapping through the other trailers like tendrils as I shuffled to the bus stop at the mouth of the park. A few other students live here, but they stick with one another, leaving me out. Normal.

The bus was a noisy affair, and I pulled my headphones out, grabbing my usual seat nearly towards the back, my distant and prickly demeanor inviting others to sit with me as much as a cactus would. Forks itself is a wet, green, small-town prison. With a population under 5,000 there really isn’t much going on here. The most we get is the occasional stop from tourists at the Olympic park who get turned around, and end up in the wettest place in the continental US.

Instead of watching the greenery and familiar houses pass, I watched the streaks of moisture race in start and stop as the bus mirrored the movement, picking up more and more students, until we pulled up to the mismatched high school to unload. Warm bodies chattered to one another, the usual morning catch up and gossip, of which I don’t take part. People learned after the first month I lived here, not to approach me. I don’t take kindly to all the questions about my life in Portland. I’m not some shiny new toy to be had. I’m the used and mismatched barbie doll from Toy Story, cut up and ugly for reasons beyond my control.

The one good thing about my schedule this year is that math is first. Being a junior, it’s trig. I suck at math, but at least I can get it out of the way first thing in the morning and not have to worry about it anymore. Being tired from another night’s partial sleep, I can zone out what I need to, and things are fairly quiet.

Having survived Math, it’s onto gym, where I’m not terrible, but not a superstar either. I don’t really care for it, but it’s mostly because I have to make teams with people. Thankfully this year, Charlene, a really nice girl with bright red curly hair and soft round cheeks is in with me, and usually takes pity on me and partners when we have to. She’s really quiet, and all her friends are in a different class, so she doesn’t seem to mind being stuck with me as we work on team badminton. In fact, being so tall, she’s not bad at it. I stand in the back, since I’m just a bit taller and have a longer reach, and she goes up front, and smiles at me when she scores. Having Charlene in the class is almost like being in the class with a friend.

French is a more preferred class of mine. I like languages and I have a few French poetry books I’ve been slowly deciphering. The teacher is an old grizzled lady who has probably smoked her whole life, but she barely even notices me in the back of the class, which is perfectly fine by me. I can sit back there with one of the French poetry books, deciphering as she goes on about the conjugations for past tense verbs.

Right before lunch I have my favorite class: Literature. Ms. Morgan is a fresh college grad, still excited about teaching, which honestly is sometimes the best. You tend to notice over the years that for a lot of teachers, their little lights go out, but the new grads are still excited to be there, to make a difference in impressionable young lives. Or some bullshit like that. But Ms. Morgan, for whatever her starry eyed enthusiasm, is genuinely excited about whatever she’s teaching. And it’s kind of infectious.

That Wednesday we were working through To Kill a Mockingbird, and I was almost excited to go over the chapter we had read last night, meeting Boo Radley. I took my seat at the back of the classroom. The desks were arranged in several rows of two, but I had a seat by the window, and with the odd number of students, I had a pair to myself. The fog had lifted to misty grey skies, ugly, gray and bruised.

I was staring out the window, my book and my spare Goethe poetry book on the desk when I heard a stir. Life has an interesting time of taking us when we are in our most raw material state, and chuck us into the fire. I had gone such a long time, with my misery as my closest friend, that I was almost never surprised when life tried to make it worse. Life seemed to enjoy kicking me down, and then dragging me along the pavement for a bit before tossing me off a cliff. With all I had been though, was it really any surprise my thoughts were so macabre?

Looking over toward the sound, I spied a few girls toward the front of the room twittering like sparrows in the bush. Following their gaze I saw the being that life had sent to push me over the cliff.

I say ‘being’ because human, or boy wasn’t quite fitting. It was as if someone had simply plucked the wings off an angel, enfolded it in human clothes, and gave it a little nudge into the classroom to give Ms. Morgan a slip of paper. It spoke with her quietly, and to my horror, she pointed at the empty seat next to me.

I wish I could properly describe him, but I will not do it justice. Honey colored eyes, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, golden wavy hair, and skin gorgeous pale, as if it had been more tan, but someone blotted up the color, leaving the ghost of it. If you’ve followed so far, I could have described a super model. But it’s not that. It was more. It was so many puzzle pieces put together to be a masterpiece. It transcended modelling. It transcended the ideal body. It was beyond. It was someone taking my brain and heart and squeezing them at the same time.

The moment he turned and looked at the empty seat and me, he frowned, and I felt my heart plummet. Even from across the room, I could see the frustrated disappointment. Obviously he would rather sit with the jocks or the girls, rather than the goth kid in the corner. Well fine.

I frowned back, though my heart seemed to pick up the pace. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him move with fluid grace, setting his book down and slipping into the seat without a sound. I looked over, waiting for him to introduce himself, but his face, so beautiful it was painful, became a hard cast of stone. Like I said, fine. I get that I’m not some chick with bosoms, and I don’t have letters pinned to my jacket for sports. I know what I look like, but you don’t need to be rude.

I’m not sure how much time passed, me looking at him, heart thudding at the angelic, infuriating figure, until Ms. Morgan spoke. “Everyone, Thomas Smythe just moved here with his brother and sister, and he will be joining our literature class. Please make him feel welcome.”

With her announcement, I noticed the other eyes on Thomas. Everyone looked at him, some with amazement, and others with jealousy. Thomas’s face softened, and he seemed to observe them, a soft turning of his lips that made my stomach clench, but he never turned them toward me. Shiny new toy was here and I was certain he knew it. You just didn’t get through life looking (and smelling because good lord he was practically my own personal love potion of soft rain, musk, and decaying earth) like that and not know it.

Ms. Morgan struggled to pull the class’s attention back to her, and with good reason. It wasn’t every day the most gorgeous being alive was sitting next to you in class. Literature is my favorite class and I couldn’t even properly pay attention, because it was like sitting next to a lightning bolt. Every time I thought my heart might calm down or my fingers, gripping my poetry book like it was the last thing tethering my soul to my body, might get some feeling back, I could smell that sweet musk again. Hints of fresh parchment, dried rose petals…my mouth watered.

And all the while, going through the lesson, I was ignored. But even from where I sat, I could tell Thomas wasn’t just absent mindedly doing so. He was willfully not looking at me, as if doing so might soil him somehow.

Time seemed to drag and then speed up, Ms. Morgan announcing the end of class along with our homework and I had no idea what we had even covered. The perfect body stood up then, eager to get away from me, never giving me a backward glance as I struggled to get my heart rate back to an acceptable level, and my brain straight before going to lunch. Standing as some of the other students did, I placed my books back in my messenger bag and cruised down to the cafeteria on shaking legs. I got meal assistance, but half the time I just got myself some milk and a sandwich or a salad. Either way, milk was always comforting to me.

Chaos reigned as students picked their usual tables and I headed to the one towards the door where I sat alone, usually reading. I picked up a turkey sandwich and milk, but found myself looking about, looking for the new students we were promised, convincing myself that I wasn’t interested in the shiny new toy. I was interested to see if they wanted to ignore me here too.

Sure enough, just as I took a bite of sandwich I almost choked on it. Leading the pack was the ghost tan adonis, his honey eyes glancing here and there for an empty table. My throat closed at the sight of him and I put my sandwich down. At least now he was far enough away that his scent didn’t make my brain feel like I had shoved it in a blender and turned it on high.

What I hadn’t expected was that his siblings were nearly as breathtaking. I couldn’t hear his voice, but I saw him chatting with the other male, a bit shorter than him with dark hair like mine. His nose wasn’t quite as straight as Thomas’s, and his skin was lighter, but he had the same honey colored eyes like liquid gold, and a similar fluid movement. Yet another God at the school, though if I were pushed to be judgemental, he still wasn’t quite as perfect as Thomas.

They sat as though they were light as feathers, and that’s when I could see the female. Nearly as tall as the dark-haired male in the thick green sweater, she looked strong with her soft, thin beige sweater hugging her over a pair of light wash jeans, her straight mousey bronze hair pulled into a messy bun, that somehow made her look even more beautiful. High cheekbones and sweet lips smiled and laughed at something one of the boys said, as she sat beside them.

All I could think was that those must have been hella good genes. What, did they just suck all the beautiful genes from everyone around and channel them all into their kids? How was that even fair. I looked at some of the students around them (who stole glances at them) and some had maybe one or two nice features. Good eyebrows. A straight nose. But then they had other things to compensate, like their face wasn’t quite symmetrical, or they smiled with one side of their mouth more, or even the dreaded acne. The three creatures gathered at the window by the table though, had approximately zero flaws. Was that even legal? It definitely wasn’t fair, at least to the rest of us mere mortals.

I watched as they talked to one another, softly and utterly comfortable within their bubble, and I thought that usually siblings didn’t get along. My only friend, Bryan, had a sister, and they fought all the time. Normal sibling stuff. But the girl looked at the dark haired boy like she was married, and the golden Adonis like he was her best friend. I guess if you were that beautiful, you could only be friends with other beautiful people, or they might get jealous.

So intently I watched them, that it wasn’t until the bell rang that I had realized I only barely ate a bite of my sandwich. I ate the rest of it in a couple bites as I prepared to go to the other building over for history, putting my poetry book, unread, back in my bag.

My thick black boots splashed the occasional puddle as I made my way across the campus for history, and then chemistry. Some people might have thought it awful walking between buildings in the rainiest spot in the US, but I didn’t mind. The cold never bothered me. I was always cold anyway.

After such a strange and irritating lit class, and lunch, I was ready for a return to normalcy, or at least as normal as life could get when you were me. I shook off the rain as I made my way into the room, aiming for my assigned seat in the middle. I know. Not exactly the spot I would have chosen for myself, but Mr. Stanwick seemed to think that we were in first grade and needed assigned seats.

Other students jostled around me, and I was just getting settled when something caught the corner of my vision. There, talking to Mr. Stanwick by the front of the class was the golden boy, and this time I could hear his voice. Silky. Smooth. The kind you want to read you an audiobook on repeat forever. Ugh. Even worse, I saw Mr. Stanwick gesture. “Go ahead and sit behind Laura there…”

Dammit, that was just kitty-corner behind and to my left. I tried to look away as he came over, but his honey eyes glanced to me again, sliding up my pale arms and making goosebumps travel along with his gaze. His frown returned. With the fluid grace of a dolphin in the water, he found his seat, and I looked away, shifting my own seat and hunching myself over my text book, trying to focus on Mr. Stanwick as he called attention to the front of the class and we handed in our homework.

Have you ever felt someone stare at you? I mean really stare. Not just glance in your direction. Creepy, right? There I was, trying to learn about the War of 1812, but the perfect jerk behind me was trying to bore holes in the back of head, or set me on fire. I could _feel_ it. The only thing I could think was that I had only ever pissed one other person off without doing a thing, and that person was in jail, hundred of miles away. According to my therapist, I was safe now. Apparently not. Maybe I had some walking invisible sign for people to automatically hate of be pissed of with me. No argument needed, just step right up, look at my face, and take a swing.

I could feel my heart start jogging like one of those people in the horror movies, where they look back, and think someone is behind them, but they’re not sure yet. It takes a second look back to confirm that they should be flat out running. I refused to look back. I couldn’t have a full blown panic attack in the middle of a classroom, in the middle of a lesson. I know I didn’t have much of a reputation besides ‘goth’ or ‘do not touch’, but I didn’t need to add former mental patient to the roster.

The minutes ticked by torturously. Every now and again I got a waft of dried roses. It made my stomach try to crawl into my chest. Slowly, incrementally, I loosened my grip on my desk, taking deep breaths and holding them, until I talked myself down. So what? A beyond hot guy was staring at me like I’d pissed in his cheerios, but he didn’t know me. Maybe he forgot his glasses and was really staring at the board. It’s not like he knew me or anything. Maybe he recognized me from the news story? It was possible. But that wasn’t my problem. He could pound sand for all I cared.

Lecture turned into reading, reading into worksheet. Worksheet became homework. As soon as Mr. Stanwick gave the ok, I bolted from my seat, using my long legs to be the first out the door, catching my breath as I headed into Chemistry. With bated breath I waited, waited for the inhumanely gorgeous figure to glide into the class and be assigned to my bench, the only open one. Finally, as Mrs. Geck closed the door, I let out that breath, thought the tension was hard to work out of my muscles.

I ended up spending chemistry and regular English trying to get my limbs not to feel like they’d just run from a bear, and my heart to chill out. No need to panic. It’s not like he knew where I lived.

The rain continued down as I went back to my locker, trying to get my short circuiting brain to function and put the books and homework I needed back in. My fingers felt clumsy and too big as they shoved them in, my brain trying to block out the amber gold eyes, and the mesmerizing voice.

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I headed to my bus, only to see the family of supermodels around a white Tesla model X. Must be nice to have money. Even in the rain that had slowed to a gentle mist, they looked absurdly out of place surrounded by ordinary cars, ordinary students, ordinary trees. They belonged in an art museum or a Smithsonian titled ‘Most attractive people in the world’.

The girl easily hopped into the passenger seat, the dark haired boy slinging into the drivers seat with feline grace. Opening the back door the Adonis looked up, and it felt like electricity zinged across the parking lot between us. Immediately I looked away, embarrassed I’d been caught staring. The line ahead of me moved, and swallowing against a dry throat, I chanced a look again to see the Tesla pulling out, and slipping into the line of cars leaving.

I spent the ride back to the trailer park mouth trying to calm my nerves once again. My knee bounced the entire time as the wet greenery slipped by. In no time at all I was back, my black boots crunching the stones up the incline, past the rows of neat singles and doubles. Some were more fancy, with porches and patios, dormant flower boxes, and others were barely eligible for lean-to’s. My mom’s was somewhere in between. Parts of the brown outside were rusting, but she had some bulbs that came up each year, and a few cute signs with fairies.

Inside it looked like someone had barfed up the 70’s. The kitchen was robin’s egg blue, even including the sink and fridge. I pulled my jacket off, hanging it by the door and pulled off my boots and chucked them in my room. The living room had a red shag rug and brown furniture, so I preferred to stay in my room. I lit a few candles, turned some music on and checked my computer for any messages from Bryan.

Bryan was my best and only (besides Norman) friend. He lived up in Annette Island, Alaska, but had grown up in Portland with me until he was 13. Then he moved back with his extended family, but we had stayed close. It helped that there wasn’t much to do up in Annette Island, and I was terrible at making new friends, especially with my home situation. When I had been younger, Bryan’s house had been my refuge from my dad, and his mom made the best salmon jerky as an afternoon snack for us. Now we kept in touch by messaging and playing Call of Duty together.

Nothing today, which wasn’t surprising. Bryan had boating practice on Wednesdays.

The rough voice and guitars hummed about the room from my old computer as I plopped on the bed, spreading out my homework. Math was once again the worst, so I pulled it out first. I would likely take me till dinner anyway.

My estimate was right, and by the time I needed to turn the lights on, I had finished the last problem and my stomach growled. I left my books about my messy bed and came out to the kitchen, scrounging for the casserole I had made on Sunday when I’d had the time. My mom worked crazy hours, and when she wasn’t working, she was usually dating. How there were that many guys in this town to take my mom out I never knew, but I figured it made her happier than being stuck here with me. I didn’t blame her. The amount of times I’d thought how life would be easier for everyone without me was likely staggering. I didn’t count. I hated math.

The microwave dinged and I took the noodle casserole back, Norman’s bell tinkling hopefully at my heels. I absently shoved pieces of noodle and tuna in my mouth at my desk, working on the history worksheet, followed by chemistry. Geez everyone had piled on the homework today. By the time I finished Lit, my eyes were just tired enough to read a few poems, before I dropped the books off my bed and next to my messenger bag for tomorrow. I licked my thumb and forefinger, extinguishing each candle and changing for bed.

There I waited for sleep. Insomnia occurred a few times a week, so I wasn’t surprised when my brain refused to give it up, whirling around with images of the day and the macabre poems I had read. These seemed to meld together, and I found myself swirling about in pools of gold, the gorgeously symmetrical face looking back to me in a misty graveyard. Yeah, he wouldn’t look so out of place there.

I could imagine confronting him like I wanted to, asking him what his deal was. I showered regularly, and yeah, I wore a lot of black. Big deal. He was just as much of a freak as I was with his perfect face, perfect body, perfect everything! This line of argument lead to me asking questions, tons of them. Did he have plastic surgery? What did his parents look like? Where did he come from? Why did he live here now? What did he like? What were his hobbies…? Oh shit.

I groaned and rolled over. No. Nope. There was no way. Stop it brain. Stop it body.

I didn’t need to be attracted to the new guy. Please kill me now.


	2. Chapter 2: The Black Hole- Thomas

The door slipped closed with a gentle clack, but I was still bathed in diffused sunlight through the clouds and rain. It wasn’t enough to show off my diamond hard skin and the millions of prisms it created though. It was really quite nice to be able to go out in the sunlight. Being forced to be nocturnal since 1823 could be really quite tedious.

I was surprised Lucian hadn’t said anything in the car, and with caution I set my bag on the kitchen table. This room too was bathed in light, a testament to the Cullens’ ability to choose an area and hide effectively enough that they could be themselves. They didn’t live cooped up in basements or attics until the sun went down, and now I wouldn’t either, all thanks to Agatha, and her friendship with Carlisle.

The story was that Agatha had encountered Carlisle on her travels after being turned at Salem in the 1693. She was impressed with his restraint and refinement. She continued her nomad ways until 1823, when she found me, but always kept Carlisle in the back of her mind. With his control in mind she had created me, and then my best friend Lucian, in a small trading town in New Mexico territory.

I won’t get into the why’s or how’s of turning me and Lucian. It is a story that requires proper time and care. While it would seem that all a vampire might have is time, I could feel Lucian ready to pounce at any moment. Or rather, I could see it.

The moment I set my bag down, I turned to him, and noticed the aura around him had turned electric blue. He was keyed up. You see, as an immortal, I had a gift. It was no telekinesis like the much lauded Edward, or the super strength of Emmett, both of whom I had met while in Norway. My gift manifested itself as being able to see moods and souls through an aura of color that surrounded a person. Each person had their own color, the color of their soul I liked to think, but it varied with mood and feelings. Lucian, because I was more familiar with him than any other being on the planet, was easiest for me to discern subtle color changes in. That and like me, he was immortal, and other immortals were easiest for me to read.

Lucian, my dearest friend, watched me as he always did when he wasn’t sure how to bring something up. His golden eyes moved across my forehead and down my faces, over my nose and eyes and then back to my forehead, as if trying to lobotomize the information out of me. But Lucian was no Edward Cullen. He could not read my thoughts. His talents lay elsewhere, in his artistic abilities. Even for an immortal, his paintings were spectacular.

“What is it Lucian?” I asked softly. Over the years I had found it easier just to be the first to open up where my friend was concerned. He was not particularly given to speech.

“He wants to know why you were staring at that boy in the cafeteria and after school,” a bright voice said as it came into the kitchen.

Helena, Lucian’s mate, and the penultimate member to join our little coven, strode in, her strong Athenian body loose and appearing as nimble as a bird. That is, if that bird worked out twice a day for close to a hundred years. Her lean muscles wrapped around her arms, which looked very soft in her white t-shirt and jeans. She must have shed the sweater upon arriving home. Of the five of us in the household, I had my money that she was the strongest. Still, she had been a welcome addition to the group. She brought a fiery confidence and enthusiasm, and her pink aura seemed to glow with it. Now, it was bubble gum, a sign that she’d had fun pretending to be human her first day of school, despite its challenges.

“Being that I’ve known Lucian a hundred years longer than you, you’d think I’d be able to read his mind too,” I retorted, glad for her levity to the situation.

“Well?” Lucian asked, waiting for an answer. To a normal human, he might have seemed relaxed in his jeans and sweater, but I could see the tension in his face and body. It was like someone holding a flame very close to a firecracker. His blue was so bright.

“Did he smell extra good or something?” Helena was also the most callous about our nature. While I found it hard to flippant when we tried so hard to blend, she was breezy with where we had come from, and had spent the last twenty years to change.

“That’s disgusting,” I bit back, frowning, looking away from her. Easily I could conjure the startled face, pale, with those bright blue eyes, but more than that, the utter pit of blackness, and the scent unlike any other.

“Then what is it? Was he an interesting color?” Lucian’s gaze attempted to peel off my skin to find the reason underneath.

“Yes…he was…unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered,” I chose my words carefully. Of our small coven, Lucian had longed to settle somewhere the most. He had detested wandering about the earth forever, wanting to pause, stay, absorb the world around him. While all of us wanted to be able to stop killing, Lucian had wanted it more.

“Like how?” he frowned.

Helena leaned against the marble counter, her bubble gum pink from earlier toned down to more of a rose. “I’ve never seen you like that in the cafeteria. I thought you were going to break the table in half and take a leap for him.”

The frown deepened. “He really did…smell good?”

I could recall that torturous hour of literature with perfect clarity. I had been relaxed, comfortable and doing well as I navigated the warm bodies, until I had sat next to him. Artemis. In milliseconds, as soon as I had looked in his direction, I knew it would be a terrible idea to sit next to him. Everyone has a color. Pink, orange, blue, yellow…colors. But when I looked to him, expecting to find a nice green or perhaps bored red…all I saw was black. Not even the killers and murderers I had hunted over the years had color. No one, not anyone, in nearly two hundred years was just…black. It wasn’t just a straight up black though; it was as if there were an utter absence of light, some sort of black hole about him that sucked all the light away.

My registration of these facts was too fast for the human mind, and having no alternative, and a bit curious, I used my human pace to walk over. I wanted to blend in. Say hello. I sat.

But just as I took a breath to speak, I caught him. Something inside me broke.

I remembered once in meeting Edward and his family that he had told me his wife had once been human, and he had almost killed her when they first met. His pale green aura had seemed a bit chagrined. I now knew why.

Venom filled my mouth and I immediately stopped breathing. How had Edward done this? Already I could imagine having to kill everyone in the entire room to get to him. He was right there. Bare inches. So close. I wanted him more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. Resistance was futile. I could slam the door shut, turn…but there were too many people. No. I needed to get him alone. He’d come right? I need only use a few charms, ask him to show me the school. It was obvious that he was a loner anyway. Twenty years I hadn’t killed a single human. Everyone fell off the wagon right? Lucian wasn’t here to stop me.

I thought of Lucian. He would forgive me right? He had forgiven me when I’d begged Agatha to change him too. He’d forgiven me this cursed life. He would forgive me for taking this one human. This one defenseless boy. This black pit of nothing.

I held myself rigid, trying not to look at him, though I know he stared at me curiously, waiting. He couldn’t see that I was doing my best, restraining every single fiber of my being from killing him right there in a classroom full of people. Did he know how close he was to death? How easy it would be for me to simply break his neck and drink from him until I was satisfied.

Lucian’s face filled my mind again. Agatha would be utterly disappointed. Even Julius would be. He had certainly loved our new home, so close to the woods and nature. Helena might be the only one to forgive me, and even then, if I hurt Lucian in this way, she might not. And then the bigger question. If I lost it now, if I gave in, just a momentary lapse, could I even forgive myself? I didn’t want to kill anymore. I didn’t want to break these fragile humans, even if the one beside me did have a soul as black as midnight in the desert without a moon. Surely his uniqueness was all the more reason to keep him alive?

Shoving the camel through the eye of the needle, I steadied my resolve. I would not give in. The entire period I didn’t breath, terrified the scent would send me over the end, the temptation too strong. I could only hope the teacher didn’t ask me any questions that required me to open my mouth as I swallowed the venom pooling in it. All the while I could feel the bare warmth from the body next to me, the black aura no less warm than others.

Torturously slow the minutes had crept by, my strain unapparent to those around me of course. The second the teacher gave the ok, I was gone, trying to control my supernatural speed as I got out of that situation.

I had almost told Lucian and Helena then that I needed to go home, that it was dangerous for me to be here, but Lucian had been light blue, which is a rare good mood for him. How could I ruin that? Instead I had convinced myself I was strong enough to resist, and I probably wouldn’t see Artemis again for the rest of the day. I had fed just last night. I could do this for my friend.

I saw him in the cafeteria, curious still about his black aura, but far enough away where I could still breath. The memory of that scent was still razor fresh though, and I sat with my back to him, trying to follow Helena’s argument with the history teacher about the 1940’s. Being nineteen when she was turned, it was harder for her to pass for younger, so she was enrolled in senior classes.

I tried to keep up, avoiding Lucian’s occasional looks, as my mind warred with temptation. As Lucian headed to physics and I headed to my own history class after, I resettled that I would have to talk to Agatha, figure out what to do. Curiosity was beginning to creep in about the boy. Why was his aura so dark? Why did he smell like that? Was he to me what Bella had been to Edward? In the time I was turned, two men being together was practically illegal, but nowadays they had parades celebrating it. It wasn’t perfect, but better.

Resolving to think about it at the next lesson I found myself faced with challenge. I handed the slip that I was a new student politely to the teacher, and had him point to where he wanted me to sit, but as I followed his finger I froze and frowned. Once again, the darkness was seated in the same classroom as me, watching me with a startled, put-off expression, like he wanted desperately to crawl away from me.

Keeping my eyes off him, I took the seat diagonally behind him, his scent once again hitting me like a cement block as I walked past. I squeezed my eyes momentarily, trying to swallow at the venom in my mouth. I felt as though I were fighting a raging bull, keeping him, my true nature, from destroying everything with that boy who sat in front of me.

Now, behind him, I could get away with memorizing him. Why was he so different? Besides the clothes, he seemed exceedingly average. He was tall, thin, almost worryingly so. He had feathery black hair that seemed to match his aura, making it almost indiscernible from the top of his head. It fell in sheets to the nape of his neck, rather long for a guy. The curve of his shoulder blades were outlined as he hunched over his desk, as if protecting something important there, shoulders hunching up about the pale shell of his ears where a few silver piercings clung on. Goth though he was, he didn’t seem supernatural in anyway. No superstrength. He was in a normal class, with likely normal intellect. And yet there he sat, driving me insane. I had so many questions. Why was I so hungry? Why was his scent so mouthwatering? Why was his aura black? Who was this Artemis, and what made him such a black sheep among the white flock, so that the other average humans ignored and avoided him? How had he changed everything inside me so quickly?

“Yes, he smelled…exquisite,” I answered, earning an alarmed look from Lucian. Helena observed, eyebrows raised.

“Is he a threat?” Lucian was practically turquoise.

“I’m…not sure. I’ve never met anyone like him. It was like looking into a black hole, all that gravity pulling me in.”

“You almost bit him?”

I would have blushed if I could, and looked away, and then back at him. Didn’t he see how much I had struggled for him? “You would have too if you had smelled what I had!”

Lucian shook his head, shoulders tense. “We shouldn’t have come here. You weren’t ready.”

“I am. If I wasn’t, he would have died before I left the classroom. I…held it together.”

“Yeah and what are you going to do tomorrow? And the day after? And the day after that? Agatha is just settling into work here, and Julius has classes he’s teaching and…”

“I know you don’t want to move. I don’t either-“

“Yeah well me may end up doing so! Because you can’t control yourself around-“

“Fellas!” Helena’s voice broke into our debate. She was bright pink with worry. “If this is a problem for Thomas then it’s a problem for all of us. Lucian if that means we need to move-“

“But I like it here! We’ve been moving for the past two hundred years! I want to stay somewhere more than a few months!”

“Do I hear an argument?” A tall, lithe vampire in jeans, soft grey shirt and brown leather vest floated into the room with his usual grace and soft green aura. Julius.

The anxiety and frustration I was feeling immediately died down. Julius’s gift for bringing peace to arguments and having insight to work toward a decision was a subtle gift. The only other one I had known like it was Jasper. But unlike Jasper, Julius could only bring peace and harmony. I supposed it wasn’t surprising considering he was something of a washed-up hippie. But it was useful for us, vampires trying to live together, and Agatha loved him.

Helena smiled at him, back to soft pink. “Former argument. Thomas met someone very interesting today.”

This seemed to pique Julius’s interest, and he sat gracefully on the stool, his body all limbs and his mousy brown hair tied back neatly. His face was open and friendly as usual, golden eyes observing the uncertainty that was clearly showing on my face. “Oh? Who did you meet Thomas?”

The nice part of talking with Julius is that he would weigh each of your words, taking time to understand everything before he gave you his thoughts. He never rushed for judgement. Though he was youngest among us, he was ultimately the most patient. It was easy to come to him with problems.

“There was a human in my literature class, and my history class. It…he was…unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.”

Julius’s stilled, thinking. Lucian watched eagerly.

“Are you sure he was human?”

I nodded. “Yes. Normal in strength, in a normal class for his age…”

Julius smiled wryly. “I believe we appear much the same.”

“Yeah but, he wasn’t…” I wanted to say demonic like us. Perfected like us. “…without flaw.”

“What made him so interesting then?”

“When I first saw him, his aura, it was completely black.”

“Black?”

“Yeah…I’ve never met someone who’s soul…aura…is like a black hole, sucking away all the light around it.”

“Hmmm…what else?”

“His scent it was…” I paused, my mouth flooding at the scent again. “Better than anything I’ve ever smelled since I was changed. I almost couldn’t help myself.” That was an understatement. I had been a hair’s breath away from committing mass murder.

Julius nodded slowly, as if he understood what I meant anyway. “Anything else…?”

“It took a herculean effort to resist him. It reminded me of what Edward and Bella had mentioned about when they had met. How Bella almost hadn’t survived the encounter.”

A wise look came over Julius’s features. “And you think this is a similar experience? You have met the one for you?”

I frowned for the umpteeth time that day. Was this like that? All I knew for sure at that moment, was that I wouldn’t be the same. I started the day as one person, but as I sat in the twilight of the kitchen, I was quite another. “I know I need to know him. I need to figure him out.”

Lucian joined in. “Isn’t that a recipe for disaster though? If you slip? If you lose control, we will all be in danger. And if something happens in broad daylight the Volturi will never forgive us.”

“I…I was surprised. I won’t be surprised again. I’ll hunt again tonight. When I was sitting next to him-“

“-you sat right next to him?!” Lucian was alarmed for how close I had come to ruining us all.

“Lucian. Let Thomas finish,” Julius held up a hand. Helena stood next to Lucian, ready to stop him if necessary. She couldn’t hurt him, would never hurt him, but she could create an electric barrier between us to stop a fight. It was her gift, showing off her naturally protective nature.

“I sat behind him in history and watched him. He’s a normal human. He was put off by my…strangeness, like most people. But everything feels like it’s shifted. I don’t think I can just walk away from him and go somewhere else. It’s like he’s taken up permanent residence in my mind.”

Julius’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “Well, Thomas, no one knows your experiences and your mind better than you. As Helena put very well earlier, a problem for one of us, is a problem for all of us. So how can we help you?”

My eyebrows came together. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this.”

Julius gave a soft, consoling smile. “I’ll go talk to Agatha. She’s almost finished with work. She might have some ideas. In the meantime, Lucian and Helena, we will do our best to support Thomas, and keep all of us safe. Alright?”

Lucian nodded, though still seemed uneasy about this solution. With one last look at me to tell me it wasn’t over, he slipped up the stairs to his room at vampiric speeds.

Reaching over, Julius patted my cold fist, which I hadn’t realized was clutching the granite countertop nearly enough to crush it. “Don’t worry Thomas. We will figure this out.” With one last pitying look, he disappeared as well, headed up to Agatha who was in her room, consulting with tech companies hundreds of miles away.

I waited for Helena to go, sure she would follow Lucian to console him, but as she continued to watch me, I left instead, walking out onto the porch overlooking the forest. I breathed in the air. Moisture, moss, pine. There was a flock of sparrows in the tree to my left. Two does were drinking by the stream several hundred yards away. I wasn’t hungry. I should hunt anyway.

Soft footsteps followed me out onto the porch. Helena.

“I’m surprised you’re not up with Lucian.” It wasn’t an accusation. I really was surprised she was still here, her easy, carefree self joining me at the porch rail.

“He needs to brood for a bit. You know how he is. And he hates being at odds with you,” she said simply, letting me lead the conversation if I wanted to.

I sighed. “I hate being at odds with him too. When I was…in difficulty…part of what kept me from giving in was how disappointed he would be to have to move again.”

She gave me a soft smile, her bright amber eyes looking about my face. “He knows. You’re his best friend. You know he’s sensitive though.”

I took a deep breath of the moss and woods again and let it out, Helena’s soft perfume of apricots and bubblegum strong beside me. “Yeah. I was so close though. He’s right. I could have ruined everything.”

Her soft chuckle reached my ears. “Must be quite the human to make you so serious.”

“This is serious. I could have ripped him apart in a second.”

“And you would have regretted it for eternity. I know Lucian gets the reputation of being a broody artist, but you and Agatha are the ones who really are committed to not hurting people anymore, and the most likely to hurt yourselves with it. Such Gryffindors.”

I rolled my eyes at her Harry Potter reference. There was something to be said for enjoying current literature, and though she didn’t read as much as I did, she had found series over the years we enjoyed together.

“I thought you thought I was a Ravenclaw.”

“True, you are a nerd. But you’re like Hermione. A noble nerd who needs a cause to stand on. And hurting that goth kid just didn’t work with your strong principles.”

Usually it was Agatha who was so insightful, but Helena always knew how to surprise. Even after a hundred years. “Any suggestions then?” I looked back out into the darkening forest, my eyes spotting a squirrel slowly climbing up to the branch above him.

“How about a phone call?”

“A phone call?”

“Yeah. You mentioned the situation with Edward and Bella. Call them. Get their advice, especially Edward.”

I blinked. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Being isolated was a hard habit to break. I hated bothering other people with my problems, but the Cullens had always been kind and magnanimous in their lifestyle. Surely he would give me some advice. “That’s…actually a really good idea.”

She grinned, pleased at herself. “And then I can watch you play Call of Duty?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah so this is really about your boredom. Don’t you have homework?”

She rolled her eyes at me this time. “Ravenclaw…”

I laughed again and followed her inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. this will be posted when I can. If you hate it too bad.


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